“It’s my favorite meal of the day, no matter what time of day.”
“Do you like bananas, or do you prefer blueberries?”
I sit on a stool at the island, watching as he sets up the griddle and a frying pan. “Bananas.”
“Bacon or sausage?” He holds up both packages.
“I like bacon in sandwiches. Sausage with pancakes, so I can dip them in the syrup.”
Grant smiles. “I’ll have to try that.” He returns the bacon to the refrigerator.
“Should I do anything?” I offer, only to not be rude. I don’t cook. It goes beyond not knowing how … I’ve never tried.
“Can you get us something to drink?” Grant requests, rolling up his shirtsleeves.
I open the cabinet he indicates for glasses and pour us water from a pitcher in the fridge. “We’ll have chocolate milk with the pancakes.”
“Of course,” he says this like any other option is lunacy. “Um … can we talk about the hard stuff while I’m cooking, so the rest of the night can just be us?”
I lean my elbows on the counter. “What do you want to know?”
“What do you want me to know?”
So I tell him all of it. My mother’s heart condition, which is more than eerie, considering I’ve always believed her heart was her biggest weakness. I share what it was like to see Allie and meet her mom. This leads to the video and who knows about it. And the still-unknown reason Brendan won’t release it.
“Your life-advisor, Isaac Garner, is their illegal club’s silent investor? And he knows about the video?”
“Only that it exists. Like Parker, they haven’t seen it. Only Brendan, me and Sophia have. But Brendan knows I was in his room. I kind of went off on him when he called me, asked if he could see me in Allie’s hospital room.”
Grant exhales. “Wow. I can understand why you were volcanic.”
“Oh, the story’s not finished. But I think I should wait until you’re done with the pancakes, so you don’t burn them.”
Grant glances at me over his shoulder with a troubled expression.
“I’ll set the table,” I volunteer when the mood becomes heavier.
“Um, I thought we’d eat on the porch. I rolled down the screen siding, so the mosquitoes won’t bother us.”
With Grant’s help, I find the plates and silverware for the table. He set up a cute bistro table, painted dark blue, with two white folding chairs. The sun’s light dances in hues of gold on the lake, and several birds float on it, silhouetted in the distance. Big, fat clouds blot out sections of the sky. I stare out at the rippling water, lost in its serenity.
“Everything’s ready, but I put it in the oven on warm, so I can hear the rest.” Grant’s voice jars me back into myself. “Why don’t we walk down to the dock?”
“Yeah, sure,” I reply, wishing we didn’t have to darken this date with the rest of the story.
I leave my sandals on the porch, and Grant leads me across the lawn, down the steps to the beach and past the boat tied to the dock until we reach the end. The last time I was here, it was festive, and I was floating on a brownie cloud. I’m afraid to change the beautiful memories I have of this place with the unpleasant details of my time in Sherling.
I’m still sore from Vic’s assault—more like overused muscle achiness. I’m convinced Arden’s gross tea and mysterious ointment have helped heal me faster. But bending and lifting still hurt, and I can’t hide my discomfort when I squat to sit on the dock.
“Are you …” Grant pauses, noticing. Which doesn’t surprise me. He’s always been aware of me, able to draw the truth from me effortlessly. “This is what you need to tell me about.”
I exhale the discomfort, searching for the words. I take Grant’s hand and hold tight. “This isn’t going to be easy, so please let me just say it.”
Grant nods, his neck already reddening with distress. When I’m done, the sun is lost behind the clouds that have closed in, my story having transitioned the entire world around us into a dim and oppressive place.
Grant remains quiet for a long minute. His chest moves visibly as he fights to keep his breaths even. “I don’t care who his grandfather is; he’s not untouchable.” He’s about to slide an arm around me but stops himself. “Where are you hurt?”
I wave my flat hand in front of my stomach area. He tenderly cradles me to his side.
“I’m sorry your friends didn’t believe you. They should know you better than that. I’ve only known you a couple months, and I would never doubt you. You care about people.”
I scoff.
“Okay, let me rephrase that. You defend the people you care about. That’s who you are, Lana.”
“You sound like Arden,” I say with a light laugh. Grant looks at me quizzically. “She’s my suitemate. Her curse is Insight. She’s really good at it.”
“I think I know her.” Grant pauses in recollection. “Does she dress in really colorful and eccentric clothing and makeup?”
“Yeah, she’s pretty unforgettable,” I note admiringly. “She called me a warrior.” I laugh because I find it a little absurd. I’m not nearly that honorable or disciplined.
“She is insightful,” Grant remarks seriously.
“Is that really how you see me?” I ask incredulously.
“I’ve seen enough of your fire to understand that you’re passionate, not reckless—although it still scares the shit out of me because I don’t want you to get hurt. Honestly, I wish violence wasn’t your protective instinct. But I get what ignited it. And I know you’re trying, right?”
I nod.
“You didn’t start that confrontation with Nina. I agree with Niall; you were defending yourself.”
I draw my feet up onto the dock and ungracefully plop onto Grant’s lap.
He catches me with a surprised, “Umph.”
“I was wrong to shield you from me like I did,” I admit, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I was so angry and afraid of hurting you. But you and Ashton don’t need protecting. You’re both stronger than I gave you credit for. I screwed up, and I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” he assures me quietly, rubbing gentle circles on my back. “I want to know your truths, remember?” He tips his head, so I can see the conviction in his eyes. “So please don’t protect me from you. You’re not going to burn me.” He brushes his thumb along my cheek.
“Never apologize for who you are, Lana. I know you’re unpredictable. I’m endlessly entertained, never knowing what you’re going to say or do.” He kisses my temple. “But you’ve always been honest about who you are. I fell in love with that honesty almost the second I met you.” He brushes his lips against mine. “I love you.” He smiles affectionately.
“Can I just say that it feels pretty fricken amazing to be able to say the L-word without you freaking out?” He studies me. “Unless you’re freaking out … are you?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not when you say it.” I hug him. “When you say it, it’s like I’m hearing exactly what I feel, so it’s more like I’m saying it to you every time you say it to me.” I cringe. Maybe I’m having a brownie flashback. “That didn’t come out right.”
“It was perfect, Sweets,” he says, leaning down to show me exactly what I mean. His lips skate over mine, across my cheek and down my neck, making my head light and pulse quicken.
A drop falls onto my cheek. I swipe at the moisture. Am I seriously crying again?
When more drops hit my bare arms and shoulders, I realize it’s not my face that’s crying but the sky. Within seconds, it completely opens up and begins to pour.
Instinct has me scrambling off Grant’s lap and standing. But he tugs on my arm before I can seek shelter.
He’s smiling that stunning, breathtaking smile. “We’re already wet.”
He’s right. I’m soaked through, my hair plastered to the sides of my face.
I eye him curiously when he kicks off his shoes and peels his socks from his feet. My eye
s widen when he unbuttons his shirt. Then my mouth tilts into an appreciative smirk when he shucks it off, revealing the smooth lines of muscle and tanned skin.
Before he can reach for his pants, I unzip my dress and leave everything in a sopping mess at my feet. I rush past him and plunge in the water, hoping this is what he intended.
Grant slips through the rippling water like a blade. He re-emerges in front of me. “Are you …”
“Naked?” I grin. “Yes.”
“Oh,” he breathes out.
The rain pelts our faces as the water wakes around us.
“You’re not?”
“Uh, no,” he admits, his cheeks flushed. “Am I supposed to be?”
“Not if you don’t want to be,” I say, disappearing under the water to swim in the direction of the trampoline.
When I surface, Grant isn’t behind me. I catch sight of him slipping back in the water from the dock, his boxers abandoned next to his pants. Now I feel the heat rushing to my face.
He swims out to me with ease. I’ve secured myself to the rocking trampoline with a hand gripping the rope. The cool water soothing my aches, or perhaps I’m too distracted to register anything other than adrenaline rushing through my body.
“Maybe you are a bad influence,” he says with a teasing smile.
“I’ve never done this,” I counter playfully. “Besides, you started undressing first.”
He swims a little closer but not enough. The distance is making my heart pound with anticipation. I notice one of his hands is cupping something small inside of it. I narrow my eyes to get a better … My brows perk when I recognize the square foil package.
“I, uh …” He kicks back. “I’m not assuming. But I didn’t … know.”
I bite my lip, smiling. “You’re always so prepared. It’s so … you.”
He looks bashfully adorable.
“Come here,” I beckon when he remains too far away to touch. As soon as he’s within reach, I do just that, wrapping an arm around his neck, bringing him right up against me. Flush with my skin, sealing my chest to his. “Don’t let me drown.”
“Never,” he murmurs against my lips, closing his eyes and kissing me with the passion of a thousand suns.
I ignite, my skin ablaze. He crowds me against the side of the trampoline, caging me in. I wrap my legs around him, and he groans in my ear, tasting the rainwater dripping down the side of my neck.
“Can we … go up top?”
I nod, reluctantly releasing him long enough to climb the ladder. The rain feels like little bursts of ice against my heated skin. But soon, he’s leaning over me, shielding me from their assault. His fingers are gentle, creating their own line of goose bumps that he follows with the tender brush of his lips.
Grant lowers his head and kisses the fading bruises, skimming them so gently, it makes my entire body tense with need. “Does it hurt?” he asks, his breath warm against my damp skin.
“Uh, no,” I utter breathlessly, overcome by the sensation of his touch.
When he returns to my mouth, I don’t hold back from letting him feel every single yes that I will never regret saying. And when he whispers he loves me, I fill with a light that could shine through the darkest of rain clouds.
All I can think is, This is the truth.
“Are you warm enough?” Grant asks when he enters the living room with a plate stacked with pancakes and sausage links, drizzled with maple syrup.
I’m dressed in my comfortable clothes and wrapped in a super-fluffy blanket on the couch. It took a while for me to stop shivering. I don’t know if I could blame it on being cold exactly. I’d never experienced anything like what we shared in the rain. Something so intimate and honest. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so connected with someone.
Maybe that’s what love is—the willingness to be bare and vulnerable, accepted for your strengths and flaws. As much as I think of Grant as perfect, I know he has imperfections. But they’re also what make him perfect. The way he loves unconditionally, without judgment. How easy and accepting he is while being passionate about everything he commits to.
And I get it now. That love doesn’t make you lose yourself to another person. It allows you to stand on your own … together. Being strong when the other is weak. Listening when life is too much. And trusting that the other will hold you up when you’re too tired to go on alone.
It is a beautiful, symbiotic existence.
There has to be something in the lake water, I swear. I cover my mouth with the edge of the blanket to stifle a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Grant asks, setting the plate of food on the coffee table, eyeing me curiously. His cheeks are ruddy, and his golden hair is tousled.
He takes me in at the same time I admire him openly.
“You’re beautiful,” I blurt, riding my love high. And I mean so much more than his gorgeous face. But I’m not about to say that out loud.
Grant lights up; it’s like the sun has come out. “I was about to say the same thing to you.” He leans over and kisses me.
Grant settles next to me in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. He unwraps half the blanket and tucks it around his shoulders. I cuddle in close to him, our legs intertwining, and inhale deeply.
“Hungry?” he asks, kissing the top of my head.
“Starving,” I say, comforted within his arms.
He picks up the plate and sets it on our lap. We tear off pieces of pancake with our fingers and devour the food in easy silence.
“I need to show you something,” I say quietly, nuzzling under his chin after finishing off the last sausage link. “But I’m kind of afraid of what we’ll find.”
Grant slides an arm around my waist. “What is it?”
I set the empty plate on the coffee table and lean over to pick up the tote bag next to the couch, removing the wooden box.
“This is my mother’s. I found it open on her dresser when I was there Monday. She always keeps it locked, so I have no idea if she left it that way or if someone got into it. It’s her … secrets.” Before Grant can voice an objection, I add, “I know I don’t have a right to them. But I have to know, Grant.” I scoot back a bit, so I can see his face. “Will you look with me? If you can’t, I understand.”
Grant eyes the box. “What do you think’s in there?”
“There are some pictures with threats written on the back of them with the same messages as the ones I’ve been receiving. That’s all I’ve seen so far.”
He presses his lips together in contemplation. “Obviously, whoever’s been sending you the messages has seen what’s inside the box, right?”
I nod.
“So that person thinks you should know. Or thought you’d share them with your mother, so she could explain. Do you think she would?”
I let out a breath. “You saw how she reacted, just seeing a picture of Maggie. And I don’t know how compromised her heart is right now. I think if I’m going to find out, I need to look for myself.”
“Then open it up.” Before I do, he sets a hand over mine. “But can you agree to only look at the pictures? If there’s anything else, you leave it.”
“I can’t promise that.” I lower my eyes, feeling ashamed of my honesty.
“Well, um, I won’t look at anything other than the pictures.”
He removes his hand from mine. I open the box, and the images on top still trigger a disturbing reaction.
Grant removes the photos and sorts them, so they’re facing up. “This is Brendan with his mother and Kaden?”
“Yeah.” I pull out a stack of envelopes tied with a faded yellow silk ribbon. I don’t untie them. They’re stamped Air Mail and addressed from K. Harrison in the UK. “I think these may be love letters.”
A lined piece of paper lays half-folded in the box. I pick it up and realize it’s also a letter. I begin to read it, and my stomach drops.
Faye,
Please answer me. I don’t understand why you haven’t written or
answered any of my calls. What did I do? Did something happen? I need to understand. I love you. You are my life, so why won’t you …
I can’t read any more. I drop it back in the box and hastily cover it with the stack of letters. I can feel the blood draining from my face.
“Are you okay?” Grant asks, setting the hateful pictures on top and closing the box.
“He didn’t leave her,” I murmur. The one thing I believed my whole life isn’t true. “She left him.” I shake my head, unable to comprehend any of this. “I always thought she was so heartbroken because he left her … because of me. But … she broke his heart. Why?”
“Maybe … you’re not his. And she couldn’t tell him.” Grant looks troubled even suggesting it.
“Because she fell in love with someone else? Or she didn’t love him anymore?”
He shakes his head, unable to answer. “That’s the conversation you need to have with her if you want to understand what happened.”
“But there’s more to it. You saw how cruel Maggie was, blaming my mother for … whatever she did. That means there’s one other person who may know.” I lean my head against Grant’s chest. “Will you talk to Brendan with me? I’m afraid I might hurt him if I do it alone.”
Grant chuckles. My head jostles when he laughs. “Of course. We’re in this together, remember?”
Maybe he’ll forgive you too. I only hope it’s not too late. That you’re not too broken.
I leave a note in the tree and text Ashton to make sure Brendan checks it immediately. He’s not one of my approved contacts, so this is the only way I’m able to contact him other than through Ashton. But I don’t want her knowing where we’re going in case it goes wrong and we get busted.
I scoop up my backpack and walk through the administration building, where Grant is waiting to check me out.
“Ready for this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply, determined. I look up at him. “Thank you for doing this with me.”
“I’m glad you asked.” He gives me a quick kiss before I get in the car.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I ask as he pulls out of Blackwood.
The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4: Now We Know/What They Knew Page 25